20 Days
by FeistyFeist
Summary: 20 of the best days in Sodapop Curtis's life.


Reposting this. Took it down a while ago to make edits. Never put it back up. Thanks for reading.

XO,

Feisty

OoO

1. When his mother walks through the front door. She smiles blearily at her boys, their father guiding her by her elbow. Her hair is mussed, her face lacking energy. But Soda has enough for both of them.

"Let me see! Let me see!" Soda hollers. Their father grins but hushes his son.

Sinking into the couch, Lara Curtis holds out the bundle to Darry and Sodapop. "Your new baby brother."

Darry steps in for a quick peek. He raises an eyebrow. "Another brother." Darry looks worried.

Soda ignores his oldest brother, because now, he is the oldest brother to— Soda blinks. "What's his name?"

"Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy." Soda plops beside his mother on the couch. The baby's asleep, peaceful. Soda touches his brother's soft hair and looks into his mother's face.

It's his first memory.

OoO

2. The toy car that cracks the back of his skull. "Hey!" Soda shouts, whipping around to stare at the dirty, dark haired kid on the playground.

"Tag," the kid says. "You're it."

Rubbing the back of his head, Soda is deciding between chasing the kid down or just walking away, when the kid smirks. "C'mon dummy, throw me back the Chevy."

"You're a jerk," Sodapop mutters, bending over. He picks up the toy truck and gives it a quick glance. "And it's a Ford, smarty." He tosses it back to the boy who catches it with one hand.

The boy scowls. "Show off."

Soda watches him walk away. Later that week, they meet again – the same way, except this time Soda's quick to respond – and Soda is introduced to Steve Randle.

OoO

3. When his father looks at him and says, "Sodapop Patrick, let's go. It's just you and me."

Exhilarated, Sodapop grabs his fishing pole and his tackle box and follows his father outside. He jumps into the cab of the truck and resists the urge to bounce his leg up and down. His dad throws him a grin and pats his knee.

Soda feels bad but secretly he's glad that 13-year-old Darry is sick and that Ponyboy is too young to go.

He gets to go fishing with his dad – just the two of them.

OoO

4. His talk with Ponyboy. Ponyboy is looking at him with such a serious face that Sodapop feels the need to give in. But he doesn't.

"Listen, Pone," Soda tells his 11-year old brother, "You can't go today. Just me and Darry, ok?"

Ponyboy curls into himself. "It's because I'm too young?" His lower lip sticks out.

Soda's voice pulls itself into a soothing tone. From now on, he will use this tone, this reasoning, whenever he speaks to his youngest brother. He scoots closer. He won't lie. "It is," he says. "We don't want you to get hurt. When you're older you can come. Not today."

He gives Pony a quick hug. "Ok?"

Ponyboy nods. He turns as Darry enters the room. Darry seeing the questioning look on Pony's face points a finger at him. "No."

A scowl clouds Pony's face. "I wasn't gonna ask."

"I already talked to him, Dar," Soda says, standing up, hoping to avert Darry's annoyance.

Forty minutes later, Sodapop's real glad he talked to Ponyboy. Curly Shepard's writhing in the grass, moaning and groaning and cursing the sky; his brother Tim bent over him, cleaning the wound. Darry and Steve are wondering if they should call an ambulance for Curly and talking in low voices about the rumble – the first of many.

Two-Bit slings an arm around Sodapop. He has a black eye. "Bet you're glad the little kid didn't come today."

Soda swallows the lump in his throat.

OoO

5. "You owe me," Darry is telling him. "You so owe me."

Sodapop, puking his guts out in the toilet, can merely nod. Darry's keeping their parents at bay. After a long night of drinking in Steve's basement, Sodapop had stumbled home, crawled through his bedroom window and promptly puked in the hallway.

Darry, always on the alert, had found his brother, cleaned up the mess in the hallway and snuck him into their bathroom.

When he's finished, Sodapop sinks to the ground. Darry sits beside him. "If I catch you like that again, I'll tell."

"Never," Soda agrees, wholeheartedly meaning it. He sighs, stifling the urge to upchuck once again. "Man that was rough."

Darry sits beside him, grinning. "Remember that when Ponyboy does it."

Soda manages a laugh. "Nah, he's too good."

Darry frowns. "That's what worries me."

OoO

6. A full cigarette pack.

Soda shakes a smoke out to her and she takes it. He lights it and she inhales. "Thanks," she chirps. Her eyes are blue and bright. She props a hand on her hip. "What can I get you?"

"A burger, with everything."

Cocking her head, she swipes her eyes over him. "You're that Curtis boy. Evie told me about you. You're Steve's best friend."

"Guilty as charged." He holds out a hand. "Sodapop."

She smiles, taking his hand in her smooth palm. Her nails are unpolished, short. "Sandy Lewis." Her eyes dart around the diner. "I shouldn't be smoking, I'm not on break." She stabs the burning cigarette into Soda's ashtray.

Soda reclines back in the booth, hoping Two-Bit doesn't come romping around the corner to ruin his suave line. "Well, take a break soon. I'd like to buy you a Coke."

Her smile lights up her face. Sandy lowers her lashes. "I'll take one now."

OoO

7. The night Darry speaks.

Soda raises his face from his hands; Pony still has his face in his own. "Are you sure?" Pony asks, muffled.

Darry's face morphs into annoyance and then pain. "Of course I'm sure," he snaps. Then catching Soda's warning glance, Darry says again, this time quietly. "Of course I'm sure, kiddo. There's no way I'm giving you to the state." He pats Pony's arm.

"Thanks Darry," Soda says.

Darry's jaw jumps; the muscles twitching. "Don't Sodapop. Don't thank me. Not for this."

OoO

8. Leaving high school.

It takes all of Soda's will not to run from the grounds, rip up his textbooks and fling the remains into the air. Darry may be resigned and Ponyboy may not agree but Soda's ecstatic. He's not book smart, Soda knows this. He likes cars and girls and having fun.

Soda can't help it; he doesn't want to.

That's not all there is to him. He just doesn't know it yet.

OoO

9. The phone call that causes Darry to pale.

"You get it," Darry tells Sodapop. Too many days of reporters and policemen and social services calling is causing Darry to crack.

When Soda answers the phone, it's relief. Sheer, pure relief. Soda feels his blood warm, his heart drop to his feet. He listens to some guy named Jerry tell him Pony's been found. He doesn't get much out of him, only that Ponyboy's alive and at the hospital.

Soda hangs up and lets out a giant whoop. "They found him! Great, glory almighty, they found him!"

Then, Darry grabs him up and squeezes the life out of him. "Thank God," Darry is saying as they run for the truck. "Thank God."

OoO

10. The lights are dim inside the house. Squinting into the living room, Soda listens. He's just got back from playing pool with Two-Bit and Steve and is now looking for Ponyboy and Darry.

His younger brother has been a mess since Dallas and Johnny. Sodapop wonders where he could be when he hears a sound from Darry's bedroom. "Dar?" Soda calls out. No answer. He hopes Darry and Ponyboy haven't been fighting. They promised him; but thinking of Sandy, Soda wonders what promises are worth nowadays.

He approaches his brother's room, listening. Another garbled noise. "Darry?"

Soda turns the doorknob. The door opens, revealing Darry and a girl Sodapop knows from the Piggly Wiggly locking lips.

"Oh, holy shit!" Sodapop laughs, swinging the door shut. He hears Darry swear as he books it out of the house.

Soda's glad to find out his older brother does indeed have a social life.

It's about time.

OoO

11. That Curly's face doesn't break when Darry takes a swing at him.

Curly takes the punch like a champ, stumbling backward. He rubs his jaw and then whips around.

Darry's hollering at Curly, all the while his eyes darting to the crumpled piece of metal in front of them. "You're drunk," Darry says, the words floating between Soda's ears. "You're _drunk_. What were you doing? What on earth…" Darry's voice cracks.

Curly hangs his bloody and bruised face, but takes the verbal abuse. It's the least Darry can do at this point.

Soda's pacing the street, up and down Hendricks Boulevard, waiting to see what the cops unearth. He's never felt this way. Disjointed, on edge. When Curly passes by Steve, Steve whispers, "Tim's gonna kill you. And if he doesn't Darry will."

Soda covers his face as the cops take the power saw to Curly's rusted, busted car. It's a harsh, grinding noise. Soda feels Steve's hand on his back. The crowd murmurs their concern.

Another few seconds of painful buzzing and then a fat cop reaches in to unveil Two-Bit Mathews. Their friend crawls out of the sawed out exit, stumbling a bit when he reaches his feet. A trail of blood flows from the corner of his mouth.

The cop tries to move him away but Two-Bit won't budge. Instead, he moves closer to the shattered car, propping himself up. Soda sees him mouth the word "kid" and his knees nearly buckle.

Then, a thin white arm juts out. Soda shuts his eyes. When he opens them Ponyboy's leaning against Two-Bit and the fat cop. His nose is bleeding.

Ponyboy looks up, finding his brothers in the crowd. He lifts a hand and waves at them.

Soda sits down on the curb.

OoO

12. The typo.

"Are you sure?" Sodapop asks, the wrench forgotten in his hands.

"Positive." Steve affects nonchalance but Soda can tell his shoulders want to shake. "Don't worry about it man. It's their fault."

Soda's suddenly angry. "How can they do that? Just make one mistake and not think it matters to anyone. It's bullshit is what it is." He throws down the wrench. It clatters, echoing throughout the DX.

"Damn right." Steve nods, twisting the lug nuts on tighter. His knuckles are white. He turns back around to face Soda. "I just hope…"

Steve struggles with the words and then finally says, "If you have to go, I'll go. I'll enlist."

"Stop it, Steve." Soda shakes his head, trying to smile, trying not to think of the letter that almost got his best friend drafted. "They already got your number wrong once."

Steve's dark eyes brew. "But what about you?"

OoO

13. Two-Bit dangling the letter in front of Soda's face. "Are you seeing this?" he's asking.

Soda grins, mimicking Darry. "I am."

"Shut up, Two-Bit," Ponyboy snaps. He's blushing; his ears and cheeks pink.

"We're gonna have a college graduate in our midst. College. Grad-uate," Two-Bit drawls, dancing around with the acceptance letter. "Maybe you'll win the Hobo Peace Prize or something."

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes. "Nobel," he says. "Nobel Peace Prize, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit cocks an eyebrow. "Wow, Stevie, I'm surprised you know what that is."

"I know an idiot, is all," Steve replies.

Ponyboy's eyes are so wide that Soda thinks he'll lose the urge to blink. "Soda, Darry…" Pony says. "I'm going to college." He's surprised, though lord knows why. The kid's a genius.

Soda hugs his brother. "You sure are."

OoO

14. Soda's voice. He's found it again, after a few years have passed, tensions resurfacing.

Darry's in the middle of a tirade. "_I'm_ your nightmare, kiddo. If you think you're working at that bar while you're living here—"

Ponyboy's already at the front door, ready to go. "What am I gonna do for money, Dar? You've already paid for enough." He nods at Soda. "Both of you. I gotta do something for myself."

Darry shakes his head. "Not there. You got school to think about and don't you dare—"

Soda is calm. "Knock it off, the both of you. Now." Darry gawks at him; Ponyboy abashed.

Darry means well and Soda agrees with him. Ponyboy shouldn't be bartending at the same shitty bar where Curly Shepard nearly got killed. It's enough to sicken Soda. Sodapop just doesn't agree with his Darry's war of the words. Ponyboy's older but he's still young. He's still a kid; he still has no sense.

"No," Soda says, pointing at Ponyboy. "You're not working there." He looks at Darry. "Darry, you promised."

"Ok," Darry and Ponyboy say in unison.

OoO

15. The finish line.

Ponyboy races across it, beaming. He scores the gold and a photo of himself in the paper.

When the hurdle the grandstands and the throngs of people they find him on the field. He's tall; taller than Soda remembered. Surprised by this, Darry hangs in the background. This is when Soda realizes that Pony can do it on his own: go to college, survive without them – for weeks at a time. They haven't seen him in person for two months.

Steve steps forward. "Nice work, kid."

"Thanks Steve."

It breaks the tension. Darry guffaws. "When did this happen?" Steve scowls; Ponyboy rolls his eyes.

Soda wants to know the answer too. When _did_ this happen? He can't remember the last time Steve and Pony went at it. Soda never admitted it but their bickering ate at him. He took sides with both of them but never understood either of their points of view.

They outgrew it. Somewhere they all grew up. It's the best thing he could ever hope for.

OoO

16. When Sodapop finds Pony's theme essay. It's buried in the attic, in one of Pony's boxes labeled, "School Stuff."

He finishes it all in one painful and nostalgic reading. When he's done, Soda makes two vows: See and sit through a movie with Ponyboy and take up gymnastics again.

OoO

17. The day he remembers health class.

Soda hasn't thought about it in nearly four years but for some reason it comes back to him on the hot summer day. In fact, he thanks God for it.

They go up to the lake one weekend. Pony's out of school, Darry took some time off work and Two-Bit gave Cathy the slip. Steve elbows Sodapop. "Feels good playing hooky, don't it?"

Soda grins.

Darry and Two-Bit have hoofed it down to the nearest gas station for some hot dogs. Soda stretches out in the back of the truck, basking in the hot sun. Steve scratches himself and spits in the sand.

"Cards?" he asks.

Soda shrugs. "Sure."

Steve pulls out the deck and begins shuffling. Ponyboy dives off the dock, creating a loud splash. Steve deals and Soda inspects his hand. Suddenly, it's too quiet. Soda sets his cards down. "Where's Pone?"

Frowning, Steve's lost in his hand. "I think…he went…in the water…" He looks up. "A few minutes ago…" Soda's stomach flips.

They look at the glassy lake and then barrel out of the truck, splashing into the water. They dive at the same time into the murky lake and when Soda resurfaces, Steve's shouting, "I got him!"

They carry him back up on the shore. Pony's face is a shade of eerie blue, his eyes shut. No air passes between his lips. "What the hell…" Steve exclaims, wiping his wet hair out of his face.

"I don't know," Soda says, panicked. "He must have hit his head…I don't know…." He feels for a non-existent pulse.

It comes back to him, CPR and health class. Soda pumps three times on Pony's chest and then bends low and breathes air into his youngest brother. "Breathe," Soda urges. "Breathe. Please…God damn it…"

He does this three more times and there's nothing. Soda's hands shake. "Steve…"

Soda jumps as Darry suddenly rushes them, Two-Bit at his heels. Hot dogs forgotten.

"What happened?" Darry asks, on his knees. He reaches for Pony; touching his shoulders, his face with a gentleness Soda forgot he has. "Kiddo. Kiddo!"

Nothing.

Darry tries. His heavy palms push so hard, Soda's afraid he'll break a rib. Two long minutes pass. Darry's cursing under his breath.

Pony lurches. Fluid and water and all kinds of nasty gunk expel itself from his lungs. He's coughing as Steve pounds his back. His lips are still blue. Pony's sputters, rolling around on the ground. He's breathing. Then, Soda can't help it. He's crying.

OoO

18. The telling of Ponyboy's story.

It took a long time but they got Pony's attention. They got him talking, got him in the truck and took him to the nearest hospital. Pony mumbled confused nothings all the way there.

When the doctor told them Ponyboy was fine, no brain damage, Darry almost fell over. Soda watched him leave the waiting room. "That kid has more lives than a cat," Steve had muttered, following Darry out.

The next morning rolls around and Soda's finally allowed in his hospital room. "So what happened yesterday?" Soda asks, sitting down beside his brother. "You scared the hell outta me."

Pony's hands tug at the sheet. "It's stupid." His face is red.

"Try me."

"I went back there." At Soda's quizzical look Pony tries again. "To the fountain…when the Socs…" Pony's hands gravitate toward his throat. "It's weird. I don't know why I thought about it then. But when I was under the water, swimming, I saw his face." He leans forward. "I _felt_ him, Sodapop."

"Pone—"

"I just clammed up."

"That's ok, kiddo. Just…be careful." Soda says. He reaches out and smoothes Pony's hair back. He's thinking _Strike Two_ and hating himself for it.

OoO

19. When Darry hangs the sign outside his shop. His _own_ shop.

_Curtis Construction_ it reads.

Ponyboy nods his approval. "Nice alliteration."

Darry smiles. "I think so too."

OoO

20. When she says, "I get you, Sodapop. I really do."

Chrissy takes her glasses off and touches his hand. "Believe it or not, you're not stupid. You're the smartest guy I know."

Soda raises an eyebrow, wanting to know her answer. "Why?"

She smiles that lopsided smile of hers; the one that had hooked him a year ago when he pulled over to help fix her flat tire. Against Soda's better judgment, he had asked her out.

She's too smart for him, too good for him. She's real.

Chrissy stretches her legs out. Even with heels her feet don't touch the ground. "Because you're doing what you want." She pauses and then laughs. "And because you asked me out. You've got good taste."

Chrissy's not Sandy. She's naturally funny – if Sodapop wants to admit, a female version of Two-Bit – she's focused and she's patient. But different is good and as Soda's finding out, it's bad as well. Because what he's tried hard to avoid is happening again.

"Chris," Soda says, dipping his head. "I love you."

XXXXX

Hoped you enjoyed.

Pardon typos.


End file.
